Rose of the World
by darnedchild
Summary: A short fic for Molly Hooper Appreciation Week Part Deux - Day 5 - Nothing Greater Than (Fanworks focusing on something/someone Molly loves) - Spoilers for TFP, focusing on Molly and Rosie.


**Rose of the World**

 **Molly Hooper Appreciation Week Part Deux -** **Day 5 - Nothing Greater Than _ (Fanworks focusing on something/someone Molly loves)**

It was love at first sight.

The moment Molly saw that perfect little face she knew it, come hell or high water she would be the best honorary Auntie the world had ever seen.

She gently ran the back of her finger over the baby's soft cheek and sighed.

"I did the same thing, first time I saw her," Mary whispered. "Would you like to hold her?"

Molly eagerly nodded. "Are you sure it's all right?"

Mary nodded and carefully passed the newborn to Molly, showing her how to cradle the tiny body and support her little head.

"She's beautiful. Have you picked a name yet?" Molly asked. She stood next to Mary's hospital bed, swaying slightly as she instinctively soothed the baby.

"We're still talking it over. I think we wanted to see her first, you know?"

Molly nodded again, although her eyes never left the little bundle in her arms.

இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—

"I can't stand her! She's not my mother!" Rosamund Watson snarled the moment Molly opened the door.

"Julia?" Molly guessed. She quietly gestured for Rosie to come in.

"Of course it's Julia." Rose threw herself down on Molly's sofa with a huff. "Did Dad tell you she's moving in?"

Molly settled into a leather and chrome chair that didn't match a single other piece of furniture. It was nearly identical to the one at Baker Street, and it had mysteriously shown up in her home a few weeks after Sherlock had unofficially moved in twelve years ago. (Officially, he kept his rooms as Baker Street as a sort of office/experiment/some days they just wanted some time apart space; although everyone who knew the couple were aware that Sherlock spent more nights at Molly's than away. It was an arrangement that made them both happy, and they had seen no reason to alter it in the last twelve years.)

"He didn't tell me specifically, but Sherlock mentioned it might be a possibility. Didn't John discuss it with you first?"

"No!" She pouted for a moment, then wilted under her godmother's disbelieving look. "Maybe. I didn't think he'd actually go through with it though. She's not my mum!"

"Sweetie, does your Dad know where you are?"

Rosie shook her head, her lower lip already beginning to wobble in a clear indication that tears were threatening.

"I'm going to text John and let him know you're safe, and then we'll talk about it. All right? In the meantime, tea?"

Molly put the kettle on and sent off the promised text.

 **She's with me. – M**

Less than thirty seconds later, her phone pinged.

 **I'm getting into the car right now. – J**

Molly turned her back to the sitting room and quickly typed a reply.

 **Don't. She needs to work through things and vent. I'll bring her back in time to get ready for school tomorrow. – M**

It was almost a full minute before the phone pinged again.

 **Call me if she wants to come home sooner. Thank you. – J**

"Is he coming to get me?" Rosie asked as soon as Molly returned with two mugs of tea and an unopened box of chocolate biscuits.

"Not unless you want him to. I told him I'd take you home in the morning if you want to stay and talk tonight."

The young girl bypassed the tea and went straight for the biscuits. "Thank you, Aunt Molly."

"All right, love. Your Dad has been seeing Julia for more than two years now, and I thought you liked her?"

Rosie finished swallowing her biscuit and then reached for her tea. She stared down at the light brown liquid, swirling it a bit in the mug. "I do. I guess. It's just - It was different when they were just dating. Now it's serious. Permanent. What if they get married? Strangers will think she's my mum, and they won't know about-about . . ."

Molly set her mug down on the coffee table and moved to sit on the sofa next to Rosie. She pulled the girl into her arms and pressed her cheek against the top of Rosie's head. "You'll know. John and Julia will know. Sherlock and I, Mrs Hudson, Uncle Greg. We'll all know, sweetie, we'll remember her."

Rosie shuddered in her arms, the tears finally falling. It took Molly a moment to understand what Rosie was saying in the midst of her quiet sobs. "I don't. I don't remember her at all."

Molly mentally cursed her poor choice in words. Of course Rosie had no real memories of her mother. There had been pictures, of course, and a DVD that Mary had made for her daughter before she'd died—She'd recorded herself reading a children's book to Rosie, and John had played that DVD for his daughter nightly for years. Molly knew Rosie still had a copy of the DVD tucked away in her wardrobe.—but it wasn't the same.

"And Daddy . . . He used to get so sad when I asked about her, so I stopped. I stopped asking and he stopped talking about her and I don't-I don't-" Rosie's sobs grew louder, and she held on to her aunt with all her might.

"Shh, love." Molly rocked back and forth, instinctively trying to sooth her goddaughter just as she had the first time she'd ever held her. "We'll talk to John in the morning, and I know he'll love to sit down and tell you anything you want to know about your mum. I promise."

And then she'd have a long, private discussion with the man about getting his head out of his arse and drop a pointed reminder in his lap that he wasn't the only one who still missed Mary.

She let Rosie cry it out for several more minutes. When Rosie finally pulled away and wiped the back of her hand across her runny nose, Molly leaned close and pressed a quick kiss to her goddaughter's forehead.

"Now go wash your face and I'll see about ordering in something for dinner."

As soon as she was alone, Molly pulled out her phone.

 **Rosie's here. – Mxxx**

 **I know. John called. Several times. – SH**

 **She misses her mum. I know you were going to stay at Baker St. tonight, but I don't suppose you'd like to pick up dinner and drop in? Maybe tell her a few stories about Mary? – Mxxx**

 **Be home in forty. – SH**


End file.
